The Sound of Silence
by UchidaKarasu
Summary: Kakashi Hatake, the face of a widely successful band, thinks that his best friend Itachi is happily in love with his fiancée. However, things are not always what they seem... Rated M for a reason.


Yo.

Just like with _In Hot Water_ that I posted a couple of seconds ago, this just randomly popped out of nowhere. It's unbeta'd, so if you see anything, feel free to tell me. This is meant to be sarcastic, politically incorrect, and off-the-wall, so if it insults anyone, feel free to flame. I honestly don't care. It'll make my life much more interesting.

Oh yeah, and this came _so_ close to becoming a MC, but I decided..._Nah!_ This is sort-of based on a true story-not the super-famous bullshite, but me and four other people doing cosplay at a convention in Japan a while back. We played music and whatnot, and apparently rocked that shite _down_. But anyway, I cosplayed as Itachi, and another friend of mine cosplayed as Kakashi, and...er...things happened? So yeah, it's sort-of like a twisted version of our cosplaying weirdness and the stuff that happened after. Although the ending is completely different.

Oh yeah, and I attempted to do US spelling. If you see any of my English-speak leaking through in this thing, please tell me! It's a learning experience!

Ja ne!  
UK.

* * *

"Is it true that you're dating Obito Uchiha?"

"The pictures of you and Genma Shiranui are quite racy; did you finally split with Iruka Umino?"

"The rumor is that you're dating Anko Mitarashi; are you bisexual now?"

"Are you planning on finishing the tour despite the talk of your sister's upcoming marriage?"

"The Daily News reported that you're going to be in a major motion picture! Is this true?"

"Is it true that you had an affair with your sister's fiancé?"

Loud. Pain. Pushing. Screaming. Questions. Lights. And fuck, all the goddamned questions. So many questions that had answers but I definitely couldn't answer them. It wasn't my place, really, even though some of the words being hurdled in my direction were so ridiculous that even I wanted to scream.

I pushed my way through the massive crowd. Didn't they understand that they wouldn't _get_ another tour if I ended up dead? Or if I murdered someone? It seemed to be past their thought processes to just let me into the arena so I could do what I loved to do.

Instead they just surrounded me, suffocated me with questions and hands just dying to touch my skin and my hair. They poked and prodded and tried to consume me whole, their minds looking for nothing but self-gratification in the sense that they either got the answers to their questions or they got to touch a form that they longed to taste for themselves.

The five security guards and the lines of police weren't enough to pull all of them off of me, and even as I fought my way to the blue double doors that would allow me access to my soundcheck, they grasped handfuls of my clothing and attempted to pull the hoodie off my body and the hood off my tell-all silver hair. I gritted my teeth and held back the words that were aching to be let out: _Stop fucking touching me you bastards and leave me the hell alone!_

By the time I was to the door, my coffee had already spilled a tiny bit on my fingerless gloves, burning the pale skin of my thin fingers. I held it tightly in response with both hands, letting the smaller police man open the door and allowing me to rush inside as they pushed the rest of them back. My left hand shot out and locked the doors, banging harshly on it once to show them that it was locked and they could head back to their stations, and almost instantly I could hear the door's handle being shaken frantically as the fans and reporters beat on the doors for access.

I relaxed my tense body, my shoulders actually getting a little bit straighter into their normal slouch. I had been practically curled upon myself in an upright position, because I had learned from experience that the less space you gave them to grab onto, the less likely they're gonna grab you.

My feet began tracing the steps to the back of the stage almost without thinking about it. I had never been to this particular venue, but most of them were put together exactly the same and it wasn't too hard to maneuver around the halls. And with all of the scurrying around the crew was doing as they prepared for the show, I could probably just ask anyone and they'd lead the way with finesse. It was their job anyway. They were at my band's disposal, my manager's disposal, and in short, my disposal.

However, there was no need for that, and as I calmly sipped my coffee and wandered down the narrow hallways backstage, following the rushing roadies, I eventually made it to the little room where my four of my closest friends were lounging. With a long sip of the tasty drink, I trudged my way into the room, kicking it shut with my DC clad foot and promptly plopping down on one of the two couches. My feet were propped up on the back of the seat, not really giving a shite if I trashed the furniture, because I had more pressing concerns. Like meditating. Yeah, I had to get in the zone before screaming myself hoarse onstage. Yep. Definitely took priority in my book.

But naturally, the only sane one in our group decided to make himself known: "Get your feet off the couch." I glanced lazily at the one who had spoken, my best friend, taking stock of his appearance. His face was delicate and yet masculine, with long dark lashes caressing his lightly golden cheek every time he blinked. His deep ebony eyes were aloof and calm, framed by a touch of dark eyeliner to make the orbs pop and long creases showing off his bout of insomnia. He had long, slender eyebrows that matched his soft black hair, with shades of deep brown highlighting the strands. The hair on his head was short in the front, framing his thin and lightly tanned face while the rest of it was put in a ponytail at the nape of his neck, reaching to about mid-back.

Instead of doing what he asked, I just stretched languidly and yawned with exaggeration, not taking my eyes off of my best friend. With a roll of his ebony eyes, seventeen-year-old Itachi Uchiha just shook his head and scratched his neck, opting not to get into a mock argument with me before a big show. So instead, the other four began rummaging around and getting themselves to the places where they were needed.

Itachi sat up in his chair and picked up the electric blue Stratocaster guitar, glove covered fingers flying over the strings as he began tuning his guitar by ear. The five-foot-nine Uchiha was clad in a black v-necked t-shirt, black mesh covering the V and going down his pale arms. His hands were clad in those black, fingerless gloves, leading to his purplish-blue fingernails. His trousers were just plain black denim, and his black Vans with white lining were covering his feet. A necklace with three circular pieces of metal was around his neck, along with two rings on both his ring fingers, the red and silver one on his right hand and his silver engagement ring on his left.

Minato Namikaze was already playing little riffs on his own yellow and black guitar. His long, blond bangs fell into his bright blue eyes, his golden skin shining as did his sparkling white teeth. A handsome nineteen-year-old at a strong five-foot-ten-and-a-half, he sat tall and proud in his white and black striped t-shirt, black denim jeans covering his legs and white Chuck Taylor Converses poking out the bottoms. He was devoid of all jewelry, but a black and white studded belt was wrapped around his waist although not in the loops of his jeans.

Asuma Sarutobi was up against the wall, sitting on the floor. At six-foot-two, the gruff eighteen-year-old towered over the rest of us, a blue bass in his hand as he began strumming the strings with large fingers. His intense brown eyes were concentrated on his instrument, lips in a frown, his tanned skin and chiseled features defined. A beard covered his jaw and chin, the same coarse hair as the brown mop on his head. A cigarette was lit in his mouth, accumulating ash but he didn't even seem to notice. The man was a solid rock, his muscular body clad in a green t-shirt and dark blue denim trousers, and the heavy black boots on his feet weighed enough to probably knock someone out with a slight kick. He also had a ring on his left ring finger, a gold and diamond wedding ring, due to his marriage about five months ago.

Eighteen-year-old Hidan Namazuma was running around the room with his massive reserve of energy fuelling him. With white hair that was slightly shaggy and flicked back away from his forehead, violet eyes that flashed with diabolical enthusiasm, and a grin that could light up Times Square, he banged on everything and anything currently in the room, save the instruments, and didn't even break a sweat. The shortest out of all of us at five-foot-eight, he was clothed in practically nothing, with only a black mesh shirt and black denim trousers that were holey, threadbare, and practically falling off of his narrow hips, showing a bit of his lightly tanned skin.

As for me, I didn't even get up. As I waited for Itachi to finish tuning and for Hidan to finally calm down enough to think properly, I drifted to the sound of the unrehearsed music in my ears. Even the nutty sounds like Hidan beating his purple drumsticks on a fridge or Itachi's plain scales were beautiful to me, because music was the meaning of my existence, along with my friends and family. It made my world go round, and it made my mind tick. It was my profession, my gift, and my one true love affair.

When there was a small pause in playing and then the small swell of Itachi playing a song I knew well, I finally because tuning my own instrument. With a deep breath, the words began coming from my lips like second nature, my voice low and husky and melodic with the sound of Itachi's guitar. Softly, Minato joined in, then Hidan in a rough improvisation due to the absence of his drumset, and then Asuma on his bass. Gradually, my singing got louder, and their playing increased in volume, and the song got gradually harder and rawer, yet still beautiful, so fucking beautiful.

Four minutes and roughly thirty seconds we made our music, played our song, got our notes into the small room of this arena. And soon, we'd be throwing them out into the world, letting the individuals on this planet hear our music. We were going to tell our story. Hell, we were going to _scream_ it out.

Time to belt it out.

* * *

Xenobiotic was created when Itachi and I were in the sixth grade.

It had been mostly because we wanted to be badass like some of the other bands out there. We were best friends with everything at our disposal, considering who our parents were, and so we decided that we were going to do something insane and uncharacteristic to what people expected of us.

Itachi's father was Fugaku Uchiha, a very successful business man that was the head of the entire Uchiha Corporation. His weapon manufacturing business had been in the family for so long that the name Uchiha was infamous, a household name. Eventually, the man had turned to politics, and overnight the man had become a huge name in both the military and the entertainment industry. He was placed as the head of the military design unit in the Prime Minister Japan's Cabinet, in charge of leading the surge in warfare and design. The Prime Minister himself gave Fugaku the job over a mid-morning brunch, a normal occurrence for them considering that they were both very good friends and had been for a long time.

Itachi was pressured to follow in his father's footsteps as he was the firstborn, but it had never really been what he wanted to do with his life. Even though he had been practically forced to attending the best schools and all the other crazy bullshit that came with being the son of such a well-known family, he hadn't really wanted that kind of life.

I had known Itachi since birth. He was a couple of months older than me, but he had been born early and had been in an incubator for the first three months of his life. This was how his father Fugaku had met my father.

Sakumo Hatake was well-known in a slightly different way. Instead of being involved in the military section of the government, my father was a lawyer. A very _good_ lawyer. So good that when he was hired, no matter the case, the people opposing would hurry and either settle or pull the case immediately. He was a force beyond all others in Japan, but eventually he grew tired of the crap and the constant death threats. He became Attorney General of Japan when he was thirty-five, and by the time he was forty-five, he was giving Fugaku Uchiha a job over their mid-morning brunch.

I was sort of expected to follow in my father's footsteps into law and politics myself, because I was a lot like my father in reality and my father was the most popular Prime Minister in the history of Japan. I probably had politics and law in my blood, considering I loved to argue with a passion and I loved throwing truths in people's faces.

However, I was more of the rebellious type, even though I reined it in when I was around the Uchiha's due to their sometimes suffocating thumb on their two children, Itachi and his younger brother Sasuke. I stayed (mostly) out of trouble, but if there was one thing I loved to do, it was do the complete opposite of what I should've been doing.

I started playing the piano when I was four, guitar when I was six, and I had been singing since the day I was born. Eventually, music pretty much dominated my life, and Itachi had always been right there with me, both of us playing just for fun between the two of us. Eventually, when we were in the sixth grade and heavily influenced by bands like Green Day, Shinedown, and Tantric, we decided to start this little band thing that would just be a little secret side project. We got two more really good friends of ours, Minato Namikaze and Asuma Sarutobi, in on the whole thing as they were pretty good musicians at our private school, and Asuma's best friend Hidan Namazuma from the public school took up the drums.

But even then, it was just a little thing that we didn't really expect to go anywhere. Besides Hidan, it was just a way for four friends to share a love of music without going out of our home lives to do anything out of the ordinary. It took Hidan, who was hugely obsessed with being famous and knew that we had a chance because we were _good_, actually booking us a gig at a local teen club when we were Sophomores in high school and around fifteen-, sixteen-years-old. We reluctantly played, knowing that our parents and the press would have a field day with it, and ended up get a shiteload of publicity over it.

'_The Rebel Children_' they called us. Considering I was the son of the Prime Minister, Itachi was the son of the head of all military and weapons manufacturing in the country, Asuma's father was the Attorney General that had succeeded _my_ father, and Minato was the son of the most famous director and his leading actress of a wife, it was clear that we were going to be in the press even more than we already were. And due to the fact that over a dozen reporters were there with their cameras rolling our show, it was an immediate hit. Almost instantly, it was all over YouTube, the news, _everywhere_. Hidan got his fame, and we were along for the ride.

Within the next three days, we had calls for record deals, signing contracts, everything we needed to get big and start touring. However, it was all of our parents that freaked out. Itachi had been grounded for the rest of his life and his guitar and other musical instruments had been confiscated and thrown out (I had saved the guitar, as I knew that it was Itachi's favorite material item in the entire world). Asuma had gotten off easier than Itachi had, only being grounded for the next twenty years, even though Hiruzen Sarutobi had been quite amused on the side because he was generally a fun loving guy. Minato's parents had been really excited because they were used to the whole insanity with showlife, and had encouraged him to take his passion for music to the next level. Hidan's family obviously didn't care very much except for him to just get out and live his life to the best of his abilities.

As for me, well...my father had laughed his ass off, actually.

Sakumo Hatake had always been as much of a nut in the humor department as Minato's father, and they were good friends to begin with. Therefore, my father told me to go for it, his exact words being: "As long as you don't become one of those stereotypical rock stars that gets addicted to heroin and becomes an alcoholic and has tons of hot monkey sex with random people, I don't care what you do. Just be responsible, for my sake, kid, alright?"

The only thing we had to do was convince one Fugaku Uchiha that it was okay if his son travelled around the world without much supervision and lived the controversial life of a rock star. It eventually ended up with Mikoto, Itachi's mother, in tears, Fugaku throwing a chair out of one of his windows, and Sakumo sporting a rather spectacular shiner for the next two weeks. However, my father, like always between the two good friends, ended up having Fugaku bent over like a child in defeat. No one really said no to my father, especially when he started his whole _lawyer talk_ and practically shoved every single possible pro and con in your face. And the _lawyer talk_ had swayed more stubborn minds than Fugaku, so even someone as hard-headed as the Uchiha head was persuaded to let his kid have a life outside of politics.

So one month after Itachi turned sixteen and one month to go until _I_ turned sixteen, Xenobiotic began living the dream. We had a CD in circulation by December and we were huge, our music spanning everywhere that could be possible. We toured anywhere we could possibly book, and by the time I turned seventeen, we had played at the one place that we had yearned to play: Madison Square Garden in New York City. A dream of all of us had. When Xenobiotic played there, it had proven that we had done something in our lives that actually meant something out of the norms that we were used to.

However, it was when we were told that our music had saved lives when we realized that we had been doing something that had been worthwhile. After everything in our lives, people told us by letters and by personal stories that listening to our music had changed their lives, had given them something to live towards and something to hope for. None of us had had any ideas about how human beings had listened to our words and our notes and realized that they could live on. Through music and through our quotes and spoken words, we changed lives. We helped people realize that they were perfect in their own way, that it was okay to not be 'normal' and 'popular' and whatever. That it was okay to be unique and to be yourself.

Because that was just it. Itachi was the one that kept us—_especially_ me—in line. He was the only one with a brain, and he kept us sane and in line. He kept us from actually _being_ one of those stereotypical rock stars that my father didn't want us to be. He was like the stern father of the whole operation, but then again, he had been my best friend _and_ a force to keep me from doing something stupid even before we were as 'famous' as we were now.

And Minato was a huge book nerd, spending more time in a bookstore for something interesting to read than in the tour bus. His life pretty much revolved around his girlfriend, Kushina, and his multitudes of books. Well, that, his family (including us), and ramen. The man was like a human vacuum cleaner, and if it wasn't for his borderline insane antics onstage, he probably would've been fat as hell with as much as he ate.

Asuma was the weirdo that loved video games and comic books and had been teased during his years in private school because of his love of all things dorky. Even furthermore than games and comics, he was a huge fan of Dungeons and Dragons, magicians, and science museums. He loved his wife with a passion that exceeded everything else except his family, which included me and the other guys.

Hidan was just a horny bastard. He had probably slept with more women than Xenobiotic had played shows, which was really saying a lot. But we definitely wouldn't give him up for anything. He was the reason we were living our dream instead of stuck in a stuffy classroom, eating pizza and singing at the top of our lungs in a man-smelling tour bus.

Hidan was our hero, and he was also my partner in crime, to the exasperation of Father Uchiha.

Don't get me wrong. Itachi's fabulous. He's not just my best friend and my better half, but he is also my soon-to-be brother in law. Yeah, the fucker was engaged to my sister, since they had been dating _way_ before Xenobiotic had been thought of, and they were scheduled to tie the knot officially on their anniversary on the seventeenth of July (the retarded saps; they should've set the date on All Hallows Eve...that would be _so_ badass).

They were already an old married couple, with five kids—Asuma, Hidan, Minato, Sasuke (he lived with Mother Future-Uchiha), and yours truly (_creeeeepy_, if you thought about it)—and while being separated due to her schooling in Japan, they still were sappy enough to make me throw up.

Normally, I would've loved my only sibling to join me on the road, giving her an easy or useless job for an excuse for her touring with us, but frankly, when Itachi and my younger-by-four-minutes twin sister were together, it was disgusting. Always _smooching_, looking into each other's eyes, blah-blah-blah. It was gross. My best friend and my sister, all gooey over each other, was _not_ my idea of cute. It was _g-r-o-double-s_.

Or maybe it was the heterosexuality hormones floating around the place.

Asuma had a wife named Kurenai, Minato was dating Kushina, Itachi was engaged to Yuna, and Hidan had a different girl (or two...or three) on his arm every night, and I was the only sane one on the bus.

My boyfriend, Iruka Umino, was a fiery son-of-a-bitch that always made me laugh. He had a great personality (what a god-awful, sexy-as-fuck temper that man had!) and he was gorgeous as hell, which sealed the deal. Well, that and he had a dick. That was pretty necessary. I'm as straight as a rainbow, so dicks were a must. Especially when they were connected to a man with Iruka's face and disposition.

For some reason, Itachi didn't like him very much.

I always told him to _kiss my white ass and stop making out with my sister while you're at it, you jackass_.

* * *

I was drenched in sweat.

We had finished our show in Las Vegas, Nevada, in the great US of A. Lots of screamers, fourteen naughties (not to be confused with Nazis), and twice that many security guards with broken noses or broken bones or broken _something_.

Oh. Did I mention the riot?

Regardless, that's beside the point.

I'm frustrated.

I got glomped. Not by the usual girls—I'm gay, folks, and I do _not_ want to be the father of your babies, you nutjobs—but by a large group of obviously homosexual guys with the most _scandalous_ apparel on. Sorry excuses for shirts, jeans that left nothing to the imagination, faces that just screamed 'Oi! Fuck me senseless, you sex maniac' with their good looks...damn fucking riot. Teens like that, jumping past the predisposed security guards and surrounding the bank, just needed to get to stripping and get the shit over with.

Goddamnit, I gotta boner.

Playin' fucking video games with by married faux-older-brother.

And _maybe_ that was just a bit loser-like. I decided I needed to wreck some havoc, effectively ignoring Minato who was having a sappy conversation with his redheaded girlyfriend. Asuma just restarted the game for one player instead of two.

Who knew where Hidan was. Probably out getting laid. Bastard.

* * *

A couple of years ago, I had had a crush on Itachi.

That was before the whole Um-Kakashi-We-Have-To-Talk-And-It's-About-Me-And-Your-Sister-But-Please-Don't-Kill-Me talk. Seventh year physical education, and Itachi had given me a hug right after we had narrowly kicked ass in doubles-tennis. Big fucking smile on his face, covered in a shiny sheen of slippery sweat (yay for alliterations), and his slender and burning hot body flush against mine, eyes glittering with excitement...need I say more? I'm a bloke who loves blokes, but that was the first time I had noticed that Itachi Uchiha was not my genderless best friend, but an attractive man that I had loved since the Stone Age, albeit platonically.

It didn't last very long; maybe half a year or so. I'm not the kind of chap that likes being in self agony all the time, and I definitely didn't like pitying myself. Itachi, while attractive and very much male, was absolutely heterosexual, and quite frankly, that was okay. I wasn't a huge fan of long, happy, lovey-dovey relationships anyway. If Itachi _had_ been gay and if we _would've_ had sex, we probably wouldn't be where we are right now.

I'm pretty happy that we didn't get into a strange relationship. We would've killed each other, and it would've ended badly. We probably wouldn't be best friends right now, to boot.

Then he started to date my sister. Any other guy would've been pissed off or something—_why didn't he love me? We're identical twins!_—but it wasn't like that with me. Yeah, Yuna was more responsible than me, and we had different personalities and hobbies, but we were identical in appearance, save specific gender qualities like me being more masculine and her being more feminine.

But when Itachi started dating my sister, not only did I never think or look at his features or body appreciatively anymore, but he was now not attractive to me at all. It was like a light had been switched off. Itachi wasn't attractive. Hell, he wasn't even male. He was genderless again, and my vision of him returned to normal.

It was a relief that I didn't bother to ponder on. Especially since they had announced their engagement.

Being locked in a tour bus with him for months at a time didn't bug me. I started dating Iruka, who was fiery and yet sweet, and was perfectly happy with how my life was heading. I had actually found someone that was awesome. It was my first real relationship. All of the others had been for sex or had been ridiculous.

Iruka and I had been together for three months. He was half a year younger than me, so he was still at school, but we saw each other on some weekends and it was about a month until summer vacation, so Itachi, Asuma, Minato, and I didn't have to wait long for our beautiful Japanese loves spent an entire summer with us on the road.

Besides, we were _all_ looking forward to getting off the tour bus to get individual rooms during the holidays.

Bring _onnnnn_ the non-stop sex.

* * *

Itachi was yelling at the top of his lungs.

This was actually pretty common between the lot of us in the band. Especially when it was directed at me, and it usually was. I, Kakashi Hatake, am the major receiver of the Itachi-Lecture, which could span from ten minutes to a couple of days, depending on the scale of the misdeed or how angry Itachi got.

Meaning of my existence right there: pissing Itachi off until he yelled himself nuts.

At the particular moment, a line of seven tour busses, including our own, were speeding at ninety-plus miles per hour (Xenobiotic roadies were total rebels), and yet I was building a tower out of cutlery. _Sharp_ cutlery. Also known as knives that belonged in ninja movies.

"Are you out of your _fucking_ mind? Are you _trying_ to get us all killed? What if one of your goddamned towers flew off and stabbed one of us in the fucking _head_ or something?"

And so on.

Mission accomplished.

* * *

There was this girl that tagged along with Xenobiotic as a wardrobe/make-up stylist.

Hidan thought she was the hottest thing we employed in our global take-over, so he always travelled in her bus in between trips.

Thank God. If he would've brought her on _this_ bus to fuck her, we would've rode in _her_ bus to get away from the wailing.

Her name is Ino. She has big boobs, blonde hair, and wore practically nothing on a day-to-day basis.

When she doesn't talk, she's nice to look at. She's pretty, and totally Hidan's type.

Unfortunately, all she _does_ is talk.

And wail.

But that was beside the point.

* * *

The thing about the shower is that we're in a tour bus. Which, effectively, means that there's just not a lot of room. Yeah, there's a big bunk room that fits five beds for all us weirdos, but for there to be enough room to fit said bunk room, there had to be a bit of give-and-take.

Also known as having a bathroom that was too small to be considered anything other than a kitchen cupboard with a sink and tiny shower shoved in.

Anyway, when I got out of my puny shower, my silver hair (damn you Dad!) still a bit wet and hanging sloppily in my dark grey eyes, I walked butt-ass naked to get clothes. And you wanna know the funny thing?

Asuma just rolled his eyes and kept playing like a loser. Minato waved absently and didn't stop his cheesy "I love you!...No, I love _you_ more!" conversation. Guess they were used to my exhibitionism.

Itachi would've yelled, but _that_ dude had already yelled himself hoarse when I had taken off most of my clothes in the gigantic riot and began encouraging the other blokes to do the same. And besides, he probably was already asleep. He always passed out after a gig.

Itachi didn't like my exhibitionism.

Thankfully Iruka didn't mind my teasing.

He was such a _good_ boyfriend.

I opened the door and shut it, putting the whole room back into near-darkness, and rubbed the towel in my hair a little bit before flinging it in my bed and promptly getting it thrown back into my face. For a long moment, I was pretty surprised, but then the strange blob of black spoke in a familiar voice, "Oi, I'm sleeping here, you idiot."

I scratched my damp head, confused. I looked left, then right, and then back again. Something was definitely wrong here. "Um, Itachi. You're on the right-hand side. Did we switch beds or something? Because that would make a lot more sense to me. Or is this some weird thing you're doing? You didn't piss your bed and then decide to kick me to the curb, didja?"

"I didn't piss the bed. And no, I didn't jizz in it either, you freak."

"Damn," I sighed exaggeratedly. "And I was hoping to get some extra cash on eBay selling your love-juice. I promise that half the proceeds will go to helping find a cure for cancer though, so you can sleep well. And out of my bed, while you're at it."

"Fuck you," came a prompt reply. "Now put some clothes on."

I pulled open the drawer under my bed (bottom bunk had advantages, dude) and found absolutely no sleeping pants. So I closed the drawer and turned towards Itachi's drawers (great minds think alike). Yeah, he was a bit shorter than me, but he wore them long, and they'd be alright. I'd done this before, as I hated doing laundry.

I figured he wouldn't get out of my bed as he had made himself quite comfortable, so I patted down Itachi's clean bed and made sure he didn't do anything funny to it, which he hadn't.

So therefore I plopped into his bed and promptly fell asleep, not even catching the fact that Itachi was staring at me, his eyes open wide.

* * *

Itachi had a really weird habit.

He really was an affectionate person behind that exterior of being a one-hit-badass.

Or Mother Hen.

But anyway, he was pretty touchy-feely. Especially with the people close to him. And if there was one thing he loved to do, it would've been snuggling.

Itachi Uchiha _loves_ to snuggle.

Not really badass, right? But we let it slide, even if it was really weird rolling over and finding that you had somehow gained one during the few hours of blessed alone-ness. _Especially_ when he had his arms wrapped around you, his long hair covering your face like my sister's cat.

Damn Fluffy. That black cat had a violent side, and had a tendency to attempt to suffocate the lot of us. Apparently Fluffy doesn't like the Hatake family too much. Probably because my dad never gave the fatass enough food. _Damn cat needs to diet_, he liked to say.

Back to the point.

Last month, I had woken up to find that Itachi had somehow wormed his way beneath me, his nose buried in my hair and breathing quite loudly in my ear. That had been pretty weird, for sure. Or like that one time he had went to Asuma's bunk above mine and had accidently fell asleep the wrong way, his arms wrapped around the smoker's legs.

Hidan always pushed him out of his bed, but Minato just woke up and convinced him that sleeping with me or Asuma (who allowed the snuggles from the Uchiha) would be loads more comfortable than hugging his own bony form.

Liar. Man ate a cow every day and was pudgier than me, for goddamn sure! Although pudgy wasn't the right way of putting it. Minato was more comfy than me, with his muscle mass. Asuma was pure bulk, which would make sense being comfy, but I was lanky and the boniest one on the entire bus. That _couldn't_ be comfortable.

It was weird. Totally weird.

But it was Itachi, so it came with the package.

* * *

I dreamed that a gorgeous, faceless man had wrapped his arms around me.

I was on top of him, straddling his waist and feeling a rock-hard erection against my lower stomach. He was breathing heavily in my ear, his fingers buried in my hair, and was gently rocking his hips upward, creating a friction that was driving him wild.

I could feel the solid cock brushing-brushing-brushing, and I knew that if it kept on, I'd start reacting.

Even though, for some odd reason, it felt odd.

Good, really fucking good, but _wrong_.

* * *

Germany cracked me up.

I loved the country, sure. The people were hilarious, and the booze (that I _soooo_ hadn't tasted, of course not!) was fabulous.

But every time our band toured Germany, we all remembered Asuma getting totally sloshed and attempting to wrestle a mountain goat that some chap had in his backyard.

Singularly the best memory I've got being on the road, being in Germany.

That country rocked.

* * *

Heavy breathing and desperate twitching woke me up from my odd but pleasant dream.

My entire body was draping across another form like a blanket, straddling the slender waist below me, and my face was buried in that special area. You know the one...right where the neck and the shoulder meet to form a nice little indentation of heaven for cheeks. Yeah, _that_ spot. The perfect area for biting, but this was not the moment to be thinking about that.

Admittedly, I doubted that Iruka had popped into existence and jumped into my bed. For one, that was physically impossible. Second, Iruka _so_ would've woken me up so we could have a little fun. Three, Iruka didn't smell like..._this_.

I knew the smell, because it was musky and sweet and completely unique to one person and one person only: Itachi Uchiha.

The entire thing was weird, because I could _feel_ it.

No wonder my dream had felt odd. It had been transferring into real life, and that was my _best friend's_ covered erection throbbing and pulsing against my ass.

My first reaction?

I gasped (not a good gasp either; it was more like a panicked squeak, really) and shoved myself away, aiming for anywhere _other_ than in the general area of Itachi's fully erect manly-hood.

However, being that I had just woke up and was still suffering from a case of temporary shock, I hadn't noticed the hands he had placed on my bony hips. And instead of flying across the room into Neverland, I merely jerked in his grasp, unintentionally bucked into Itachi's hips, and made my best friend _moan_.

I had never known he could make a noise like that.

If it would've been anyone other than _him_, I would've quickly popped a boner, grinned wickedly, repeat the action with finesse...until I got bored enough to move on. Also known as continuing on the road of _letting-the-man-fuck-me-senseless_. Hell, or at least giving my partner a fairly kickass blow-job. I _love_ going down on my partners. I enjoy it almost as much as the actual sex.

Anything to do with my mouth is definitely a plus in my book. I love working with my mouth and everything that came with it: biting, sucking, kissing, biting, tonguing, licking, _biting_...

Bad thought process, especially since this was my sister's fiancé underneath me.

His grip on my hips was painful. I'd have bruises the next day.

"Itachi," I said, with wide grey eyes staring at my best friend's face, all tight and tense, mouth slightly hanging open as he panted. A light sheen of perpetration brushed his brow, and his eyes focused on mine dazedly.

Again, I tried to get up, but his fingernails dug into my skin and held me in place. I hissed in pain, and lifted my knee to somehow press my weight into him painfully enough that he'd let go.

However, Itachi arched slightly and rolled his hips into my ass again, ever-so-slowly, and spoke in a hoarse and husky voice: "Fuck...just...don't move. _Please_, Kakashi..." He moaned again, a thick and lengthy sound that came from deep inside his body, and thrust again, harder this time, jerking me again into his fingernails.

I grimaced again, and said in a slightly panicked voice, "Itachi, what in the _fuck_ are you doing?" My hands were against his chest, pulling my upper body away from him even if my hips weren't going anywhere, and tried not to speak loudly enough to alert the others.

"Kakashi, just...let me do this...I need this..._please_..." God, he sounded so desperate.

I gritted my teeth, feeling his rock-hard cock (impressive-impressive-impressive, my friend, oh hell, don't go _there_!) rubbing against me. I didn't exactly know what to do in this situation—total loss of fucking brain function—because that was my _best friend_ who was practically fucking me with clothes on.

But I didn't say anything. I had decided that I was going to let him get it out of his system, and hopefully it wouldn't last long. Best friend-slash-twin sister's fiancé or not, this much rubbing and whatnot was going to do some strange stuff to my anatomy if it went on too long. I was only human after all.

For a while, there were no sounds except for Itachi's rapid breathing and my slight hisses. The fingernails had stopped digging into my skin, but the hands still clenched my hips as if he was trying to keep himself from forcing my lower body into movement against him. His hands had pushed down the bottoms enough to grasp my bare skin, his thumbs pressing into my pressure points.

And then he gasped, "Please—Kakashi. Just..._fuck_...move. _Please_ move. C'mon...please _move_."

I didn't. Instead, I said in a sharp, but quiet, voice, "You're out of your fucking mind, Itachi! I am _not_ Yuna, so let me up right now or I swear to God I'll knee you in the balls."

He surprised me though. I sorta expected him to stop moving, get guilty, apologize, _something_, but his eyes just opened and he said, "I'm not looking at Yuna. I'm looking at you, goddamnit, and no one else. I'm looking at you Kakashi, so _move_!"

He jerked his hips sharply into mine again and his eyes squeezed shut.

Me?

I'm a bad brother, because I _moved_.

It was a hesitant movement, because I had only done it out of morbid curiosity, but the whimper that escaped Itachi's throat had been entirely worth it. I didn't even notice that the fingernails were digging again, this time drawing blood that ran blistering hot down my pale hips, because I was entirely focused on Itachi's facial expressions.

I did the same circle with my hips, a bit harder this time, eyes taking careful stock of every expression the man below me made. And he made that little whimper again, quickly biting his lip to stifle the sound. He wasn't too far gone to forget about Minato and Asuma in the room closest.

I fact, I could still hear Minato's conversation with Kushina going on. I must've slept for two seconds or something before being woken up with _this_.

It didn't take long for my actions to start getting more bold. My need to hear every sound he made and see every expression he sported spurred my curiosity. Itachi...he was so damn gorgeous like this, his lightly golden skin flushed, that long hair spread over the red pillow, and the sweat coating his soft skin shimmering in the moonlight that made it past the blinds on the small window.

I was hot, yes, but not physically aroused yet. The soft cotton of his sleeping shirt brushed against my bare, hairless chest, tickling my skin. His fingers were still digging into me painfully, but I barely noticed. My thighs had tightened around his hips, and it felt natural, completely natural.

_God, this is weird_.

But what Itachi said next made my actions stop immediately.

"Fuck, I've wanted this for so long."

"_What?_" I exclaimed.

Itachi's eyes opened, smoldering and full of lust. The look shocked me out of my wits, but his words shocked me more: "Walking around here naked all the time, trying to take your clothes off on-stage...seeing you with that shit-eating grin on your face, laughing at some retarded joke, pretending to have an orgasm in restaurants just like that one movie with Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal that you love so much...everything you do is calculated to terrorize me."

"You have _got_ to be kidding me."

Itachi's left hand suddenly left its death grip and wormed its way to my cheek. Tenderly, Itachi cradled my face and brushed his thumb under my eye, saying, "I should've just stayed in my bed, but after that shit you pulled on-stage making out with that guy in front of me and then walking in here naked with water still running down your body...are you _trying_ to kill me?"

There was silence. I could still feel his erection against me, throbbing and twitching and hot even through both of our (_his_) pajamas.

But I couldn't think about that right now. Itachi had been 'wanting this'? He had _wanted_ this? And for a long time too? What about our friendship? What about my _sister_?

And then I whispered, "How long?"

He sighed and groaned in embarrassment, "Since sixth year."

"Si—sixth _year?_" I practically shrieked, and thankfully Itachi had had half the mind to cover my mouth with his hand to stifle the outburst. He looked about ready to sink through the mattress, but I was not letting him out that easily. "You've been wanting to fuck me since _sixth year_?" I choked, my voice muffled but no less bewildered.

"No!" Itachi said. "I mean, I've...er...well, Kakashi, it's a strange—"

"You better not be thinking about saying what I _think_ you want to say. What about my fucking sister?"

Maybe I was overreacting. Yeah. Definitely. But I had the right to overreact.

Especially since I could read him like a book written for first years. If the _L_ word came up, I would probably start hurting someone. And Itachi was not only the most appropriate target, but he was also the closest.

"I love Yuna...it's just...Kakashi, it's not like _that_. Not anymore. I want _you_."

"You're out of your mind, Itachi!" I yelled behind his fingers.

"Then why did you let me do this, hm?" demanded Itachi, suddenly in a mood to argue. This was territory that made more sense than a sheepish, sputtering one.

"I—I—I don't know, okay? I just know that this is wrong and totally fucking _twi_—"

He lowered his hand and kissed me.

It was a hard, brutal sorta kiss, the kind of kiss that got the attention of the one being smooched on instead of serenading the smooched into the closest bedroom.

But fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

_Fuck_.

Immediately, liquid fire raced through my bloodstream and I gasped, my breath knocked out of me. As soon as my lips parted, Itachi's hot, wet tongue plunged in my mouth, sweeping over my teeth before tangling with my own tongue. At the sensation, against my better judgment, my hips bucked into Itachi's, the boiling blood rushing below my waist. I felt like I was burning to death, with Itachi's tongue and mouth ravishing me, his left hand grasping a handful of my still-slightly-damp hair to hold my head in place while I tried to keep my mouth from responding and just barely succeeding.

Who would've known that Itachi was so dominating?

Yuna.

I broke away with great effort and sucked in much-needed oxygen. "I can't _do_ this, Itachi. You're engaged to my sister," I breathed, the guilt and betrayal of my twin twisting my insides.

Itachi's glazed eyes blinked once, twice, our gazes never wavering. Then he sighed, "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, alright. Forget it happened, if that's what you want. Just...just please, kiss me. Only once, and I'll never ask you again. I'll leave you alone, okay?"

I glared at him for a long moment, but he didn't flinch away from my eyes. Instead, those deep brown orbs kept flicking down to my lips, waiting to see if I would do it.

Against my better judgment for the second time that night, I did what I shouldn't have.

Sometimes I think Itachi knows me better than I do. I should've been a bit smarter and realized that he was perfectly aware of my oral fetish, and absolutely knowledgeable that my mouth was sensitive as fuck. I should've known that he'd take full advantage of that, because I was completely at the mercy of the nerves in my mouth.

I had barely pressed my lips to his before gasping out loud, my blood burning at the smoldering kiss he gave me. His head tilted, ravishing and consuming me, and the almost unbearable surge of pleasure seared every cell in my body.

Oh my _God_, he could kiss.

It seemed like it took me four and a half seconds for me to be a withering mass of man with a massive erection in the wake of Itachi's kiss. In a way, totally predictable on my part.

I practically collapsed on top of his strong form, and very quickly he had flipped us over, minding our heads because of the bunk above, and was pressing his hot, delicious body into my arching one. And I couldn't even help myself; nothing, _nothing_, should've been this succulent. _Nothing_ should feel like this. Two kisses and a bit of dry humping shouldn't produce this much _feeling_ and _sensation_. It was unbelievable how responsive we both were to each other.

It was probably because he had been a major part of my life for so long. I trusted him with my life, with my entire being. I always had. He was the rock I stood on, the man that kept me stable, and this..._this_ that was happening between us...it seemed like it was the breaking point. For our entire lives, literally, we had been together, and perhaps...this was just the natural step to make.

I could feel the domination in his posture and movements—his hand was buried in my silver hair, pressing me fully against his lips, and the other hand had found its place on my ribcage. But _alas_, I'm not the type to go down quietly. I might be a submissive partner, but I sure as hell didn't just allow another dude to take advantage of me without proving a goddamned point.

And I had a fucking _point_ to make, thank you very much, 'cause I was just as good a kisser as he was, the prick.

Perhaps if I would've been more lucid, I would've realized that I was being coaxed into this situation, but at that particular moment, I just didn't care. I wanted it too much.

Very quickly, I switched the role on him and grasped _his_ hair, the strands long and silky in my fingers. Quite harshly, I pulled, making his head tilt back, giving me ample room to lean up and attach my tingling lips to his racing pulse point. My tongue pressed into his skin, relishing in the salt that brushed his flesh, and I scraped my teeth along that golden skin, loving every fucking second of it. I made my way to his ear, taking the earlobe in my mouth and sucking softly, loving the guttural moan he made at the motion.

The sounds he made were intoxicating.

His scent was masculine and fresh.

His _taste_, on the other hand, was godly.

God, I loved using my mouth.

He grasped my head hard and pulled me back to his face, kissing me passionately. His tongue was sensational, so I pulled it into my mouth to suck on the muscle, groaning in the back of my throat in pleasure.

One of my hands had started trailing down his chest, wedged between our heated bodies. I was quite frankly torn about taking off his shirt or pajamas first, but I had to get _something_ off. I opted for the shirt because I got there quicker, and with a gasp that echoed in the small room a bit too loud for comfort, he began helping me palm off the offending piece of material.

I had seen Itachi naked a few times, as I encouraged most people (best friends or random strangers alike) to be exhibitionists with me, but I had never really looked clearly at him before.

Best friends didn't ogle each other, although maybe they did and I had missed the memo.

He was gorgeous, that was for sure. Definitely more defined than me, that was for sure. Where I was a lean mass of pale skin and sharp bones, thin but not _skinny_, he was golden and covered in definition that wasn't too bulky nor too plain. A trail of coarse, dark hair began below his belly button and disappeared beneath the waist of his pajamas, leading straight to his erection.

Which I had a feeling I would see pretty soon.

As I had this strange inkling that we weren't going to be stopping anytime soon.

* * *

The entire band had their own unique quirks, habits, and traits.

Itachi snuggled, was a vegetarian, and was good at keeping the peace.

Asuma was a god at video games, was a chain smoker, and loved cheesy sci-fi movies.

Hidan loved hairgel more than oxygen, and loved fucking women more than hairgel.

I have an oral fetish, am an exhibitionist, and have horrible posture.

As for Minato, he was ridiculously loyal, ate every single moment of every single day, and he also had really, _really_ good hearing.

For instance: Itachi, Asuma, and I had been lying in the bunk room, giggling to each other about how corny Minato was with Kushina. Which he was.

Anywho, said blond haired corny motherfucker had yelled, from inside the bathroom (which was on the complete opposite side of the bus), "Shut the fuck up, you assholes. I love my girlfriend, and you're just jealous because I have a healthy relationship."

"Healthy relationship my ass," mumbled Asuma, while Itachi and I had snorted.

Minato, still washing his hands, had yelled, "It _is_ a healthy relationship!"

"No, it's not," Itachi had whispered.

"Yes it is, Itachi, so shut your face," Minato bellowed.

Quite perturbed, the three of us behind the closed door of the bunk room had stared at each other before I had said in the softest voice known to man, "I love cheese."

Don't laugh at me; it was the first thing that had popped into my head.

But even across the bus, he yelled, "Speaking of cheese, can we get some of that mozzarella stuff that we got the last time we were in Chicago? That stuff was freakin' good!"

...

Actually, scratch having good hearing.

Minato was a mind reader.

* * *

I was back on top, pulling Itachi's pajama bottoms off, when Minato barged in.

We noticed Asuma bellowing about Minato being a dick for interrupting only after the blond had all but broken down the door, looking scandalized.

Damn.

Itachi and I had paused, my face level to the Uchiha's abs, looking towards the door in shock. It would've been comical if I hadn't been the object of such scrutiny, and Itachi seemed like he was trying not to cringe.

We were too aroused to do anything but stare dumbly into the blinding light of the rest of the moving bus.

Minato opened his mouth to yell, but I beat him to the punch, saying in a calm voice that surprised me, "Um, Minato-chan, we're a bit busy here. If you could be so kind as to close the door and let me continue, I'd greatly appreciate it..."

His mouth gaped a bit, before he nodded, swallowing slowly and shutting the door with shaking hands. For a couple of seconds, I could hear him talking to Asuma, and then the two of them heading for the studio room, where they could hide themselves. It was the usual tactic for when Hidan snuck one of the girls onto the bus and had his way with her. The room was soundproofed so we could blare music and not be heard, and was the room we took refuge in.

During times like this, although it was usually Hidan. However, on occasion, when we had one of our lovers with us, we'd back off as well. Hearing the sounds of pleasure and whatnot was not only uncomfortable but sort of gross too.

_I_ didn't want to hear Hidan moaning about how tight his girl's vagina-hole was and her reply of shrieking. There was a _reason_ I was gay.

_Anywho_...it was quiet.

And so we continued right where we left off.

His pants were disposed of quickly, leaving him nearly bare underneath me. His dark red boxers contrasted with his skin, and hid that organ that my mouth was watering to taste, and so I hastily tore those off too.

And bam.

Itachi cried out, loudly, as I had all but devoured him. I didn't even take longer than a split-second to take in that long, thick cock with gorgeous veins spiraling up the shaft and the mushroom-like head. I'd seen it before, although not hard, and besides, I was more interested in seeing what it tasted like.

And boy, it tasted pretty good.

Did you know that what a man eats is what his seed will taste like? Like, I eat a lot of bananas, so it'd be likely that my man-juice (haha, man-juice) would taste sorta like bananas.

Itachi ate a lot of dango when he could get it, and I was amused to find that the little droplet of precome tasted sweet and tangy, like Mitarashi dango, with that familiar bitterness underlying.

Amusing.

I sucked on the head, gauging his reaction while pressing my tongue into the weeping slit, and was satisfied to find that his entire upper body was arched off the bed, a thick moan escaping his lightly swollen lips. His hips jerked, trying to further the stimulation, so I relaxed my throat and deep-throated him, my own erection painful with the pleasure I was feeling.

Honestly, though...I could've gotten off just sucking him off. It was more of a turn on for me to make someone lose control using my tongue and teeth and lips than laying around and getting stimulated. I liked being in control, bending men to near-torture as I ravished them with everything I had.

And then I liked being fucked into the mattress. Hard.

In and out, in and out. I loved feeling that hard, throbbing cock slide down my throat and I adored pressing my tongue against the veins as he thrust over and over again. I kept the suction consistent, but started tapping syncopated rhythms with my tongue, and Itachi's entire body began tensing, preparing for orgasm.

Also known as the time to stop.

He fell out of my mouth with a _pop_ and I said teasingly, "Alright, now it's time for that nice, hard dick of yours to make its way down south."

Something like a breathless sigh came from Itachi's face area, and quite hastily, he obliged with my command, all but jumping on me and ripping the stolen pajamas off my body. Thankfully, we didn't have to spend an extra two seconds trying to get off any boxers, because I absolutely hated those things, and was completely ready for being prepared for the 'fucking into the mattress' that we were looking so forward to.

He started to align himself with my entrance, but I stopped him quickly and said, "No, you have to prepare first. I might like pain sometimes, but I don't like being tortured." As I spoke, I lifted his hand to my face, sucking on Itachi's fingers and soaking them in my saliva. I was already twitching, ready for them to enter and prepare me for his more substantial length. Ooh, I was fucking ready, biting my lip for some semblance of grounding myself, and I practically screamed in a mix between pleasure and pain when he pressed a finger inside me.

I'm not shy when it comes to sex. Never have been, nor will I ever be.

One finger, two fingers, scissoring them until he hit me _just right_, and oh my _God_, just..._oh_. My entire body felt ready to explode, and I heard myself sob, "Fuck, Itachi, _fuck_, _now_! Put it _in me_!"

He nearly did. His hard, throbbing length was pressed against my entrance, his breathing coming in choked gasps, but he didn't do it.

A couple of hours after this episode, I was thankful that he didn't go through with it. The guilt would've eaten me alive, and I know that my sister never would've spoken to me.

But at _that_ moment, I was pretty pissed.

All in all, both of us as naked as the day as we were born, flushed and desperate for stimulation and release, we fought. Like an old freakin' married couple (we pretty much were even before this).

"Oh come on, you bastard. Do _not_ hold me out like this."

"Kakashi, I know I want this, but we _can't_."

"Yes we can, because we're going to do it right _now_!"

"No! Think about Yuna! We're cheating on her!"

"_We're_? Who was the one who practically jumped my bones until he tricked me into getting hard? And besides, you asshole, _you've_ already cheated on her! Adultery is adultery, with or without penetration, you moron."

"I'm sorry, alright! But think about this clearly!"

"How in the ruddy _fuck_ am I supposed to think clearly when I'm so painfully hard for you? My fucking _head's_ going to explode! _Both of them_!"

"God, I want you too, but we have to stop!"

I nearly snarled, and said, "Fine, but don't you ever do this to me again or I will kill you. I know where you sleep, you piece of donkey shit."

"Don't be like that."

"_Fuck_ you! Fuck you _twice_, up the _ass_ with a _burning hot curling iron!_"

"Kakashi!"

I pushed him off me and quickly enveloped his dick in my mouth. He couldn't protest to this, because we'd already done it. Besides, he was too busy moaning his monkey brains out of his eyeballs, because being pissed made it rougher and harsher.

I guess he liked that sorta thing, because he all but arched off the bed after a minute and unloaded in my mouth, sending his scalding seed down my throat and into my stomach.

I came too, right into Itachi's bed sheets. Bastard deserved it.

When I had collapsed, my cheek resting on Itachi's lower stomach, I decided that I was too angry to sleep in the same bed as that asshole.

I promptly bit him, getting a hiss, and then said, "Yeah, and you _sleep_ in that man-juice, you dickwad."

And then I promptly giggled all un-manly like.

_Man-juice_.

Itachi joined me, his arm over his face and a wide smile brightening the entire room.

* * *

What's the best part about a Cisco connection?

You can have a live video feed of two groups of people, and have a full-scale conversation without being close enough to get hit.

Or getting a face full of teacup, as Yuna threw the fragile China at the screen.

And yes, it broke.

But she still gave us her blessing.


End file.
